Thieving Hearts

by Nikita Slater

  She wrinkled her nose a little when he set the plate in front of her and she saw a pile of grape tomatoes. Roman wouldn’t have put them on the table, let alone on her plate. He knew how much she hated tomatoes. Ivan neither knew nor cared about such things.

  “What matters would those be, Ivan?” she asked coldly, picking up a strawberry as far away from the icky tomatoes as possible and taking a bite. “I was under the impression you wanted to discuss my next heist.”

  He sighed and shook his head in silent admonition. She smiled ruefully. He considered the American word ‘heist’ to be crude and preferred she moderate her language. He’d head-hunted her from her university graduation at the age of twenty-two. He’d groomed her, lifting her from her rough beginnings to become one of the most renowned international players on the market. For a while, he thought he was grooming her to become his partner in all things until he realized he could not penetrate the ice encasing her heart. Now, she was much the same as the paintings she captured for him. Beautiful, cold, unattainable. To be watched and protected, but never touched.

  “I want your XSource.”

  She stiffened under his laser sharp focus and dropped the strawberry top onto her plate. She dabbed her napkin carefully against the edge of her lips before speaking. “This conversation is getting old, Ivan,” Katie reproved lightly, as though she weren't speaking to one of the most powerful criminal players on the international market. She knew he wouldn't hurt her. “XSource works for me and pretty much does his own thing outside of that. He takes the occasional contract in the States, but he chooses who he wants to work for. He doesn’t want to work for you because he understands what that entails. You can’t have him.”

  She lifted icy azure eyes to meet his grey ones. She could see the storm building and knew what was coming. No one denied Ivan. Katie had sold her soul to him seven years earlier. She felt she had nothing to lose. But she hadn’t realized she’d be dragging others into her sordid life. The agreement she made with Ivan at the time extended safety to her family, but not her business contacts. And not Roman.

  Though Ivan was Swiss, his dark brown hair and swarthy skin were more reminiscent of the Baltic nations. She wondered if perhaps his family tree extended closer toward Russia. Of course, she would never ask. The sinfully wealthy man was unpredictable and a little psychotic on a good day. He was downright sadistic when pissed off, which his current expression was leaning toward.

  “You have been a good pet for over seven years, Katerina,” he said cruelly, stroking his wide jaw. “It would be a shame for you to outlive your usefulness now.”

  She stiffened, more in annoyance than fear. She shot him a look, much like a school teacher admonishing a particularly naughty student. “And it would be a shame for you to lose your steady stream of artwork because you murdered her in a fit of childish rage,” she said steadily picking up her cup of coffee and taking a sip. She set it down quickly with a look of disgust. She did not enjoy Greek coffee.

  He waved an arm around the luxurious room in which they were seated. “You think I couldn’t do without the income you bring me? Don’t be absurd.”

  She smiled coolly and replied, “No, Ivan, I think you can't live without the paintings you keep for yourself.” She watched the slight flare of surprise on his handsome face before the shutters came down. “Don’t think I don't know exactly which commissions you keep for yourself. We both know I’m a curious kitty. I watch the market, I know which paintings sell and to whom. I also know which ones stay with the master.”

  He studied her for a long moment, in which she wondered if she finally went to far with him. She just admitted to knowing he had at least eight priceless works of art hidden away worth millions of dollars on the black market. And she was a very accomplished art thief.

  “Touché, my dear,” he said finally. “And you are correct, I would never lay a hand on you. It would be like slashing the Mona Lisa. Impossible, to say the least. You are wrong about one thing though. I would not harm you myself, but I would let you go… for a price.”

  Katie frowned, toying absently with the food on her plate. Had she underestimated him? She thought she’d come to know him well over the years. Though he was often cold, and even brutal, he was her mentor, even a father figure, though he was only fourteen years older than her twenty-nine years. He was world weary in a way even she couldn’t touch. Like he’d seen and known things she couldn’t possibly understand. It made her ache whenever she saw the war building within him. Whenever she saw him punishing himself physically in combat training so he wouldn’t punish the world around him. In a way, it was how they’d come together. He recognized the girl that felt nothing, while she recognized the man that felt too much.

  “What would you sell me for?” Katie asked, betrayal burning hot within her. It was hard to imagine her friend selling her out that way. Was that why he had brought her here and sent the helicopter away? Was he sending her on her final assignment?

  He smiled gently and reached out to bring her hair over her shoulder. “You know me better than that, Katerina. There is only one thing I would sell you for.”

  “What is that?” she demanded, brushing his hand away impatiently.

  “Your happiness of course.”

  She laughed bitterly. “Then I guess we don’t have anything to worry about, do we? I’m not going anywhere.”

  He studied her for several long moments until, uncomfortable, Katie began eating again. She even choked down a disgusting tomato without realizing until it was too late. He chuckled low in his throat at the look of horror on her face when she realized what she was eating and then he joined her, wolfing down the contents on his plate.

  “We will discuss your hacker friend over the course of the next few days, Katerina. I’m afraid I am not satisfied with this conclusion. He has been extremely useful to you over the years and I am convinced would be an asset to my organization. I have given you both the benefit of the doubt thus far and asked politely. I have accepted his ‘polite’ refusals to work directly with me and have not gone hunting. I will not remain so patient for long.”

  Katie dropped her eyes to her plate so he wouldn’t read the panic that flared to life within. Damn it! She did not need this complication. She’d gone from fearing for Source’s life a year ago when Roman grabbed her, to now fearing for her friend’s freedom. One did not just go to work for Ivan in a typical sense. No, the man was a slave driver. Or more accurately, a slave owner. And as an elite hacker, her friend was not even remotely willing to become part of any organization. XSource worked freelance or not at all. The only reason Source became involved with Soloman and Roman was as a favour to Katie, so she could keep an eye on the home front. And, apparently, Soloman Hart paid extremely well and didn’t mind the tech expert’s insistence on anonymity.

  Katie was forced to enjoy the perks of Ivan’s yacht over the following few days. She had a bedroom complete with private ensuite and stocked wardrobe, so it wasn’t necessary for her to bring any clothes or toiletries with her. Though Ivan grilled her a few more times on her best cyber friend, he didn’t press the issue too hard. She wasn’t sure why, but he seemed to be biding his time, as though he’d made a decision already. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but she felt as though she should get a warning out to Source and then leave it up to the hacker what to do with the information. Source was perfectly capable of going to ground and had, from Katie’s understanding, done it many times before. They both knew how to run and hide. It was the world they chose to inhabit.

  Katie spent most of her time on the yacht sunbathing in the gorgeous Mediterranean sun and researching her next job. “Mexico,” she sighed out loud, regret and yearning evident in her voice. She had only ever done one job there about five years ago and was not really looking forward to going back. It was a beautiful country, but somehow, being in the same country of Roman’s birth and the death of his parents, felt too intimate. There wasn’t much she could do, though. She didn�
�t get to choose the jobs.

  Ivan dropped onto the lounger next to hers and she glanced over at him with a raised brow. “Bit overdressed for the weather, aren’t we?”

  He was wearing a tuxedo complete with black bowtie. His dark curls were smoothed back from his broad forehead tipping his already handsome appearance into the breathtaking category. Or it would, if she had eyes for anyone but Roman Valdez. She was stretched out on her lounger wearing a bright patterned bikini and wide-brimmed sun hat with a laptop open on her thighs. He was sitting on the lounger next to hers with his knees stretched wide and his hands clasped loosely between his legs.

  “We’ll be making dock in a little while,” he informed her. “I have an event in Athens this evening and you, my dear one, have a plane to catch.”

  She studied him, wondering what was different about the tone in his voice. She wasn't surprised about the casual way he was telling her that she would be leaving. He always arranged her life like this. She was used to jumping at his bidding. The only times he didn’t casually mess with her life was when she was at home with her family, knowing how much that time meant to her. Although, she hadn’t been able to visit them for a year now. She knew Roman would be watching them, expecting her to show at some point. She had made the excuse that her current job was extremely demanding and that she just couldn’t get away. She tried to soothe her mother’s hurt by Skyping with her as often as possible.

  Unable to pinpoint what it was about Ivan’s demeanour that was setting off alarm bells within her, Katie impulsively leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek. Before she could settle back in her chair, he took her face between his hands and held her face close for a few seconds.

  “You will call if you ever need me for anything, my dear one, yes?” he demanded, pressing his lips firmly against both of her soft cheeks before releasing her and standing to tower over her.

  She sat back in surprise. “Of course, Ivan," she assured him, “don’t I always?”

  He studied her for a moment. “Not nearly as much as I’d hoped,” he muttered, before striding away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The building was a private residence on a massive plot of land outside of Juarez, Mexico. The hacienda was beautiful, though well-fortified. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to break into a well secured home, but she had to be extremely careful in a country like Mexico where laws tended to be a little more… flexible. Especially out in the area she was working in. There were few people that would miss a blond gringa if she was caught breaking into a home in this area. Chances were, such a gorgeous hacienda belonged to a drug dealer, or worse.

  Katie was actually surprised she wasn’t having to dodge more physical security. She had been expecting to slip by a few more obstacles on her way over the southern gate, but so far she’d seen no one. Perhaps this particular fat cat had enough local law in his pockets that he felt safe without the added expense. So much the better for her. She’d be able to get in and out with fewer potential run-ins.

  She had no idea who actually owned this particular painting Ivan had commissioned her retrieval services for. She’d done extensive research on the building, the grounds and the local area, but hadn’t been able to uncover a peep about the mark him or herself. Even XSource, an information genius, hadn’t managed to turn anything up. She felt like she was going in blind, but she’d run out of time and didn’t have a choice. All she knew was that this particular mark had a priceless, well-preserved seventeenth century painting of the Virgin Mary that would net Ivan, and subsequently Katie, bucketloads of money.

  She noiselessly approached one of the servant entrances and threw a nervous look over her shoulder even though she knew she fit seamlessly into the darkness. She wore tight black pants that moulded to her legs so they wouldn’t catch on anything as she shimmied and climbed, a long-sleeved black shirt, black gloves and a thin black mask that hid her pale face and blond hair. She also wore thin-soled black shoes on her feet so she could move easily and run if she had to.

  She easily broke in through the side entrance and disconnected the alarm that she knew would be there. She held her breath as she listened for any indication that she’d been heard. This job was making her a skittish kitty. She wasn’t used to having so little information on a client. Normally she would make sure her mark was out of the building before she moved forward with the lift. Unfortunately, she had no way of knowing who lived in the hacienda, let alone who was going to be at home. Luckily, she did know that the painting she was after was housed in a separate section from the living quarters that, especially at 3:00 am, should be unoccupied.

  Following the internal map she’d build after relentlessly studying the blueprints Ivan had provided her of the huge house, she made her way through the darkened, deserted hallways. Again, she was a little surprised at just how quiet such a large home was. She supposed that any security that may be on premises were just rotated to another part of the house. Or perhaps, given the time of morning, they were napping on the job? Well, that only made her job a little easier.

  She found the door to the Virgin’s room easily and grinned happily when she discovered it was locked with a Baldwin smart design. Finally, an obstacle! She thought the damn ten-foot-high fence around the property was the worst thing the reclusive homeowner was going to throw at her. Taking a quick peek around, she took out her phone and snapped a pic, sending it to Source. Then she sat with her back against the door, waiting for her friend to figure something out. Good old-fashioned locks? Katie had it in the bag. A techno lock? Nope, no way.

  A few seconds later her phone vibrated in her hand. Katie lifted it to her ear in surprise, answering with a whisper, “Holy crap, buddy! I don’t often get the pleasure of talking to you in person, this must be serious.”

  “Yeah, well, you present a challenge and I deliver,” came the slightly husky and always lovely voice. “Okay, Kitty Kat, time to get cracking, here’s what you need to do…”

  Ten minutes later, Katie was finally in the sealed and chilled room. She was careful to heed her friend’s instructions and keep the expert on the line for when she needed help getting back out. She knew the room was sound-proofed and didn’t intend to die in there before the homeowner came to check on their painting. Keeping the phone on, she slipped it into her pocket until it was time to exit.

  Katie retrieved a flashlight from her other pocket, flicked it on and turned to point it at the only thing in the room, the painting of the Virgin Mary. Her loud gasp echoed in the room, so loud she was certain even Source heard her. Instead of the seventeenth century Virgin Mary, piously praying over clasped hands, Katie found herself facing another painting entirely.

  Unable to believe her eyes, she stepped slowly forward, hand outstretched. She stopped within inches of the painting and stared, eyes wide and unblinking. Positive that it was, in fact, the original, she moved her hand to cover her mouth. But how was it possible? This painting had been sold at a private auction in New York for millions of dollars. She followed the purchase closely, toying with the idea of picking it up for herself. How had Picasso’s Woman with Folded Arms ended up in Mexico?

  She felt his presence like the electrical surge before a storm as he approached her soundlessly from behind. She must have missed his presence in the perfectly chilled room from her buzz of breaking in and her focus on the painting. Now there was no missing him. Nor was there any missing the swirling rage that enveloped him. She should have known Mexico was a trap.

  She never in a million years thought her beloved benefactor would so heartlessly set her up this way. It hurt her badly to realize that he must want the resources XSource could bring him more than he wanted his favourite cat burglar. The door lock had been a set up to get Source on the phone. Katie’s throat ached and her eyes burned, knowing she was probably too late. Ivan would have people ready to mobilize all over the world once he pinpointed the signal. Still, she had to try.

  “Source, get out n…!” she scr
eamed.

  Roman’s scent enveloped her just before a bag went over her head, cutting off her senses. She continued to scream until his huge arm slipped around her neck, cutting off her air supply. His other arm slipped around her middle and crushed her against him, lifting her off the ground. She kicked out at him, but her thin-soled shoes were no match against his muscular legs. Though she knew it was Roman that held her, his silence combined with the bag over her head terrified her.

  Finally, he spoke, his deep, familiar voice sending a chill slithering down her spine. “Stop moving or I will snap your neck.”

  Katie relaxed against him and allowed him to hold her body weight off the floor. She could feel his erection pressing intimately between her ass cheeks and wondered if that was a good or bad sign. He still wanted her. He wasn’t even breathing hard after their brief struggle, even though she felt like she’d run a race. Her chest was heaving against his thick arm and she was sure her ribcage was going to be bruised.

  He slipped his hand into her pocket and retrieved her phone. She felt his fingers slide along her pubic bone as he pulled his hand away from her pants. A spark leaped to life within her belly and she wanted to scream at the unfairness that the only man who could pull any kind of response from her was a ruthless, kidnapping asshole. She felt him lift the phone to his ear and then make a grunt of satisfaction.

  “It sounds like your friend is finally done running, mi chica.”

  Katie slumped against him, a whimper of despair escaping her lips as he disconnected her phone and tossed it on the floor. He turned her around abruptly, setting her back on her feet so she was facing him. She nearly crumpled to the floor, but his harsh hold stopped her. He yanked her hands together in front of her and began winding something that felt rough, like rope, around her wrists.

  “Roman, please!” she begged him in a muffled voice through the bag.

  “Do not speak,” he commanded sharply.